We're not gullible
by Lestrudel S
Summary: Sherlock is new at St. Stewart's school. To his surprise he fits in well after a while, but when his science teacher disappears, it's up to him, John, Molly and Greg to find out what has really happened. Rated T for language, violence and dark themes. May contain fluffy Sherlolly. Please R
1. Chapter 1

I wasn't sure what to expect, to be honest. The only information I could gather about what was about to happen was from books and films, which really aren't synonym for real life. I hadn't really been new before.

"Sherlock Holmes? Who the fu...sorry, who is that? Is she here?"

Oh, joy. My new form teacher thought I was a girl.

"Here, miss" I said, ignoring the smirks and glances as I sat down at the back of the class, away from everyone.

"Oh, sorry. You're a boy. This is Sherlock, he's new. Well done for finding the class, by the way. This school is a bit of a maze" she said. I shrugged. I really couldn't care less.

"Victoria Hopson?"

"Here, miss" shouted a tall, blonde girl near the front of the class. I kind of tuned out after that; I didn't try to learn the names of the kids because I wouldn't have lessons with most of them, I only had to sit through a quarter hour registration with them. The teacher handed out the timetables- I was in tutor group five. My class had science first. I smiled. It was the only subject I found relatively interesting.

The bell rang for first period, and I realized I had no idea where Lab 12 was.

"Er hey, do you know where Lab 12 is?" I asked a short boy with sandy blonde hair. He looked friendly enough.

"Oh, yeah. I've got science first period too, we must be in the same class. Want to walk with me?"

I shrugged. Walking with this kid had to be better than walking there myself and getting lost.

"John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes, although you already know that."

"Watch, you might get called Shirley." Said John, grinning at me. I half-smiled back. He was being nice. If I was going to survive here, I needed to at least _get on _with people.

"So, why'd you move?"

"I got permanently expelled."I said. He looked shocked.

"What did you do?!"

"I blew up a science lab...purposely."

"Oh god, how did you manage that?"

"I went in at lunch time, raided the stock of potassium, and added water to it."

"Don't they lock that stuff away?!"

"Well yes, but that was no problem." I laughed as I watched the expression on his face. "It actually looked excellent- it makes purple smoke. It was about a thousand pounds worth of damage, but it was no more than the school had coming to it." John laughed.

"Well, I'm keeping you away from all the potassium in _this _school. I don't want blown to bits."

"Fair enough."

"So, are you boarding?"

"Yes."

"We'll be in the same dormitory, it's done by house." I was kind of happy about this. At least I would have someone to talk to.

We arrived at the science lab a minute before the late bell. The whole class looked at the white board as they walked in. Drawn on it was the seating plan. Luckily, John and I were opposite each other on a table of four; I was next to a girl called Molly, he was next to a boy called Greg. John was happy about it; they were his two best friends.

Molly was unpacking her bag as I sat down. She looked up briefly, and then continued to take out her pencil case. Greg and John fist-bumped after he sat down.

I took out my pencil case. It contained two pens, two pencils, an eraser, a sharpener, a scientific calculator and a pair of scissors. Enough, provided I didn't loose any of it.

The teacher told the class to be quiet several times, and eventually he yelled at us to _shut the hell up_. We did.

"I'm Mr. Fryatt. Be good, please. I really can't be arsed to shout at you every day." he said, as he handed out text books and exercise books. When he got back to the front of the class, he wiped the seating arrangement off the board with the sleeve of his blazer and began to write down what we should put on our exercise books:

_Name_  
_9.5 Science_  
_Lab 12  
Mr. Fryatt_

I copied it down, tempted to write _Name _instead of Sherlock Holmes just to annoy him.

"Our topic this term is chemical and physical reactions, or rather, the differences between them. Can anyone give me an example?"he asked. I put my hand up, feeling people stare at me. I really didn't care.

"Yeah, you?" he said, looking at me.

"A chemical reaction can't be reversed, when a physical reaction can. You can tell when a chemical reaction has occurred because there might be a color change or a gas given off. Examples of physical reactions include melting, freezing and evaporation, which are changes in state. In chemical reactions a new substance is always formed, but in physical reactions a new substance is not formed, which is why it is not reversible. Also-"

"Okay, I think that's enough, _Professor_. I asked for _one _example." I looked away, feeling embarrassed. What a _wonderful _start to my first day.


	2. Chapter 2

The lunch hall. What a wonderful place. I sighed. I didn't _really _have any friends yet, but I spotted John. He was sitting with Greg, Molly and a few other kids.

"Can I sit here?" I asked.

"Of course you can, _Shirley._" The boy I didn't know chided. I was just about to walk away when Molly surprised me.

"Shut up, Andy! You can sit here, Sherlock. Don't ask next time."

"Cheers." I said, and sat down next to Greg. John was opposite me, Molly next to him. I briefly wondered if they were a couple; no, I decided. No idle touches, flirting, any sign of affection or attraction. Just friends. No love interest. That made me oddly happy, as I looked at the dusting of freckles on Molly's nose.

"So, whered'you come from?" asked Greg through a mouthful of chicken.

"L'école de Loui pour les garçons. It's a French specialist school. Translated, it's Loui's school for boys."

"God, that's bleak. Extra French, _and _it's a boy's school?" John added. I nodded.

"I _did _blow up a science lab."

Molly looked at me in shock. "_You blew up a science lab?!_"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool."

"Potassium to water?"

"Yeah, it was the only explosive I could find."

"I take it you got expelled and that's why you moved?" asked Greg.

"Yep. I'm glad about it, I wanted to board to get away from my brother. My whole family's a pain, really, but especially him."

"We all board. We're in different dorms, though- I'm a girl, and John and Greg are in different houses. But we can hang around together in the common room." said Molly. Was than an invitation to hang out with them? I hoped so. I didn't have friends at my old school; it didn't bother me, but it would be nice to be part of a group.

I shrugged. "Cool. What've we got after lunch?"

"French." said Greg, smirking.

"Have we really?" John groaned.

"Yep. I'm never going to grasp perfect tense, it makes absolutely no sense. French is a crappy language, anyway." said Molly, between mouthfuls of mashed potato.

"I've had it drilled into me since I was four, I learned a long time ago that it's crappy, useless and makes no sense." I remarked. "I'm never going to France."

"Me neither." Molly replied. I half-smiled at her as she shoveled mashed potato and peas into her mouth. The faintest smile played on her lips in response, almost as if she was nervous.

* * *

Ten minutes later, we had finished lunch and were sitting in the common room. Not the boarding house one, the one where the lockers are kept. Andy and Sal- as she was called, she didn't like Sally- were with us too. Andy seemed like an idiot, and Sal looked at me as if I were about to bite someone's head off. We weren't allowed to use mobile phones but, of course, we did anyway. I swapped numbers with Molly, John and Greg, and promised to make a Facebook account and add them. I didn't see the point in Facebook before because there was no-one I wished to add to my 'friends list'.

Molly amused us that lunch time by spilling chocolate milk all over her skinny jeans and blazer- John and Greg laughed as if it was the funniest thing they had seen in their lives, and I managed a smile. Molly giggled in a cute little-girl kind of way before going to get paper towels to mop up the spill.

"You lot are so nice, sitting there laughing and not helping me mop up this mess. Next time I'm going to spill my drink on _you, _Lestrade. Won't be laughing then." she said, which only made Greg laugh harder. He stopped, however, when an unwelcome crowd came into the room.

"Hey _Shirley_." said a tall, beefy boy. "Having fun with your _girlfriend_?"

Molly blushed and looked at the floor. I met his gaze.

"Oh, sorry, Shirley. You're gay, and _he's _your boyfriend." he said, looking at John.

"You do realize that you're full of shit, don't you, Dimmock?" he replied. "Or are you too thick to notice?"

Dimmock took a swing at John, who blocked it with his arm and punched him in the nose. One of Dimmock's friends came at me; I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him down and knee'd him in the stomach. He crippled over, just as another of his lackeys hurled himself at Greg. He stepped out of the way, and the other boy ran head first into a window. One of them even came at Molly, who kicked him in the crotch and pushed him back.

"Well done" I said, still ready to punch.

"Cheers." she replied, as we both tackled a tall, lanky boy. I elbowed him in the side of his face, and she rammed into him, pushing him over. We smiled at each other, satisfied.  
I heard a distinct 'oof' from Greg, who had just been punched in the chin by Dimmock. John kind of rugby tackled him, pushing him into the door and smashing the pane of glass in it. _Oops_.

Eventually Dimmock and his lackeys were lying on the floor, unconscious or too tired to move . Greg's nose was bleeding a little, and John had a bruise forming where he had been hit on the side of his head, but they were fine. More than fine; successful.


	3. Chapter 3

My first French lesson was mind-numbingly dull. I had learned most of what we were doing when I was seven, with being from a specialist French school, so it was an easy lesson. I was sitting with Greg, by some seating plan miracle, so it wasn't _too _bad. John was with Dimmock. Molly was with a girl I didn't know. I was lucky.

The teacher was talking rapidly in French. If I tuned in I could understand most of what she was saying, but I didn't, so it was a meaningless drone. I was almost falling asleep. I really didn't care about irregular verbs. Why did she think _anyone _would care? I rested my head on my arm as I took down the notes she had written on the whiteboard. I wasn't the least bit bothered about the fact that _lire _changes to _lu _in the past tense because if I ever went to France the chances were I wouldn't have to say _I read_. School was filling my head with things I didn't need to know, actually _lessening _my mental capacity. I would delete it all when I got to the boarding house, I decided. If I didn't desperately need it, it could go.

The bell finally went for the end of the lesson. Just another hour and school would be finished. I could do this. I had Maths. I suppose that wasn't too bad. Well, I thought it wouldn't be, until I was sat next to Dimmock.

"Hey, _Shirley. _I broke my nose because of you and your friends." he whispered.

"You started it." I murmured back.

"You finished it. So look, you little gayboy. You're going to do my Maths homework. And if you don't, well..." he said slyly "we'll just have to see what happens."

I didn't reply. He wanted me to do his homework? Well, I was going to do it.

* * *

"Are you sure you can fool Dimmock with this?" John asked.

"He's an idiot. He won't even realize what I've done after it takes effect."

"What if he does?" Molly questioned.

"It's well worth the risk." I replied, filling out Dimmock's homework sheet with incorrect answers. He wouldn't doubt it. As I finished, I admired my work. The answers were only slightly out; by enough to be wrong, but even if Dimmock checked it himself he would think that he had made a mistake and that I was right. I had done mine correctly, obviously, but he wouldn't be getting anywhere near that.

I sat back in my chair. Maths was done. Molly, Greg and John were just about finished theirs. They were in a different maths set, so they had different homework and didn't see or hear me with Dimmock. Luckily he and his friends didn't board so they weren't here to catch us. Andy and Sal didn't either, which I was glad about, because I had a feeling that they would give me away if they knew about it.

Greg had finished his homework and was eating some kind of cake. Chocolate, I thought. "What are we doing when you two are done?" he asked Molly and John, almost choking on a mix of icing and sponge.

"Beach?" John half stated-half asked.

"I thought that was out of bounds!" I said. I hoped it wasn't, I'd hardly been to the beach before. My house was in land.

"Well it it, but that's not a problem."

"Isn't there a fence?"

John laughed. "I don't think you get what I'm saying. We're going to climb _over _the fence and walk down to the beach. Or get the bus into town. You've got some money?"

I nodded. £75, although I hadn't planned on using it.

"Done. Are we going then?" asked Molly.

I shrugged, standing up.

* * *

"That's...a bit high." I said, gazing up at the fence.

"Well, if I can do it, you can do it." Molly said, preparing to scale the fence. John and Greg were already at the other side. I gave Molly a leg-up; since I was the tallest and could almost reach the top of the fence, I had to go last. She sat on top of the fence and jumped off.

My turn. I jumped at the fence, and my hands clung to the top. I pushed my feet against the wood and climbed up. I got to the top and half jumped- half fell off. I landed awkwardly, and toppled over onto the ground. Molly giggled, and Greg and John laughed, although they helped me up. I was smiling, although my uniform was ruined, covered in dust.

We meandered along a sandy beach path, with long dry grass at either side. Greg sprinted ahead and John followed. Molly and I ran after them, she in front of me. I saw the path disappear ahead of me, Greg jumping off the edge of the ledge. John somersaulted as he jumped. Molly closed the gap shortly afterwards. She turned to face me, grinning.

"Try to land on your feet this time!" she said, before jumping off backwards.

I stood on the edge of the cliff- it looked like a long way down, but it could only be four meters at most.

"Come on!" shouted John, grinning. I stepped back a bit, and without looking down, ran straight off the edge. I flew through the air, the wind whipping at my hair and face, yelling _arghhhhhhhhhhh!_ I hit the ground and rolled through the soft, warm yellow sand. I stood up and beamed at Molly.

"Didn't quite manage." I said. She giggled.


	4. Chapter 4

We ran down to the beach, hitting the water just in time to see the sunset. It was beautiful; the water stained pink and yellow by the colors in the sky. I smelled salt. I wasn't used to this, with living inland for most of my life. I loved the city, but I felt free here.

I pulled the dusty, sand-covered blazer from my shoulders and dumped it on the floor. Greg and John did the same, Molly folding hers before placing it down carefully, taking off her shoes-black ballet flats- and putting them down next to it. The afternoon sunlight caught in her hair, making it almost glow, the loose strands casting shadows over her face. I noticed every little thing about her- the way she moved, the way she looked, how she spoke. I did it out of habit, I did to everyone, but I look pleasure in noticing the small things about her. My cheeks heated as she met my eyes and I looked away. Maybe it was because I had been at a boy's school my whole life; maybe there was a genuine attraction to her. It was too early for me to decide.

"Hey Greg, wait!" she shouted. He was sprinting ahead. John and I lagged behind. It hurt, for some reason, when Molly shouted after Greg.

John was grinning at me. "You fancy Molly."

"No I don't!" I denied, blushing.

"Yeah you do!"

I stared at him, my expression stony.

"Don't you just want to kiss her?"

"Shut up!"

"What? Is kissing not enough?" he teased, elbowing me. I elbowed him back.

"I hate you. I actually hate you. I've known you for a day and I _hate _you."

"No you don't. You got into a fight with me, done your homework with me, flirted with Molly in front of me. You don't hate me."

"I _wasn't _flirting with Molly, and I _do _hate you."

"I'm gonna tell Molly you fancy her."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would!" he said, sprinting after Molly and Greg.

"Get back here!" I yelled, laughing, running after him. Maybe I _did _like Molly, but I wasn't going to admit it, especially not in front of John.

* * *

My first day had been an adventure; I had made three amazing friends, got into my first fight with them, plotted against the school bully with them, and snuck out to the beach with them. I didn't think I would even _make _friends; even then, my social skills were lacking at best. Maybe, if I was _really _lucky, Molly would be more than my friend...

I lay in bed thinking about her and listening to John's heavy breathing; there were two other boys in our dorm, but they slept right at the end of the room. Greg was in a different dorm, with being in a different house. Molly was too, obviously. Molly...

I forced myself not to think about her and try to get some sleep. It was a long day tomorrow; Science, Maths, Geography, Music, German, French. I had memorized the timetable; it would be deleted at the end of the year.

I fell asleep and dreamed of Molly. It was because I had both consciously and sub-consciously been thinking about her; it's a psychological fact that if someone appears in your dream, it's because you've been thinking about them. She was wearing her uniform- I had never seen her in anything else- but instead of being burgundy and navy blue it was baby pink, the color of the lip gloss she liked to wear. She looked beautiful; happy, smiling, her deep brown eyes sparkling in what had to be moonlight. We were standing close, but not close enough, and I kissed her, and it felt...good. Indescribably so. And when I woke up at 06:00 AM I was happy, and I only knew that I needed to do it again, and in the real world.

I saw Molly at breakfast; her hair was in a loose ponytail instead of a bun. She was wearing the same pink lip gloss, and- I think- mascara, but it was subtly done and I hardly noticed, which was saying something. But then I wasn't used to girls, and makeup, so I could have been wrong.

"Hey." she said, smiling gently.

"Hi." I replied nervously, almost awkwardly. She was still smiling, and it took me a minute to remember that I needed to smile back.

All four of us walked from the boarding houses to the main building, in no hurry, although there was a danger of us being late. Not that I cared; it meant that I got to see Molly for longer. As John and I turned to go to our form class, she waved goodbye, although I would see her again in fifteen minutes. I waved back, grinning at her in a natural, happy, unforced way.

"Stop flirting! We're going to be late!" John shouted from behind me, laughing. I turned and laughed too. It had been a long time since I had laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I just wanted to say thanks to anyone who has reviewed or followed me or the story. It really is appreciated.  
So, as we say in Britain, cheers mate :)**_

* * *

Science, Maths, Geography, Music, German, French. Joy. Just...amazing. Was this school, or a test of how much crap I could take in a day? At least I didn't have PE or Games, and it was science first. If I was really, _really _lucky, I could survive the lesson. I could just as easily die of embarrassment. Or Fryatt could kill me. I had a feeling I'd be shot in the hand next time I raised it. At least I was sitting with my three best friends. John. Greg. Molly. _Molly... _the more I thought about her, the further I fell in love with her. Should I call it love? Maybe not, but it was the only way I could describe it.

"Today we'll be doing a practical," said Fryatt. I had tuned out, but my ears pricked at the sound of this. "You need to find a partner; someone on your _table_, please, no exceptions." I secretly wanted to work with Molly; I asked John instead. Greg and Molly were great friends anyway. I envied him, and it hurt when I saw them together, even though they weren't _together _together. I hadn't felt like this before; awful and joyful at the same time, a funny feeling in my stomach whenever I looked at her. I didn't know what to think or say or do, which was strange to say the least.

I tuned in just as Fryatt was writing the equipment list on the whiteboard:

_goggles!_

_ Tripod  
2x 250ml beaker  
Gauze  
Heatproof mat  
Tongs  
Two pieces of potassium_

I looked at John and smiled.

_A beaker filled with water  
Papette_

_ Instructions_

_1. Put one piece of potassium in a 250ml beaker_

_2. Add five drops of water_

_3. Record what you see_

_4. Repeat with ten drops of water_

Simple. Banal, really, but it could be fun.

"Don't. Blow. Me. Up." stated John.

I grinned at him. "I don't hate you _that _much."

Once we had the equipment sorted and John was a meter away from me- he insisted on it- I added the water to the potassium. It fizzed, glowed, and gave off purple-pink-yellow-blue gas. "Come and have a look!" I said to John, who tentatively walked over to the bench. He gazed at the reaction in the beaker.

"Wow, that's _so _cool! I can see why you used it to blow something up."

I grinned at him. It was good to have friends, I could share this with them. I was used to keeping my awe at anything science subdued.

"Wow! Ours doesn't look that good!" said Molly as she leaned in to watch the colorful emission. Greg stood over it, too, smiling.

"I think we had quite a big piece. That affected it; it's giving off more gas than it should."

"What are you lot gawping at?" questioned Fryatt from over our shoulders. We straightened up simultaneously, Molly and I bumping heads because of the closeness and the speed. She rubbed hers, laughing. I grinned, my hand over the spot where we bashed into each other. I was happy, in a semi-painful kind of way. The thought that we had touched numbed the pain some. "If you two are quite done...socializing," Molly and I looked at each other and blushed; her expression was calm, slightly embarrassed, although her eyes were smiling. I moved my hand and let the curly brown mess of my hair fall back over my forehead "I asked you a question." he said, looking at me.

"I...our piece of potassium was fairly large, John and mine's, it was giving off more gas than normal."

"Alright, _Professor,_" he said mockingly. "carry on. Try not to get too distracted by your...lady friend."he finished, smirking, pushing back the small amount of hair that had fell from his ridiculous quiff.

"Idiot." I murmured, turning back to the fizzing potassium.


	6. Chapter 6

Maths. Wonderful, glorious, exhilarating maths, with my best friend in the _whole wide world_, David Dimmock. This lesson would be good, though. He would finally be getting his comeuppance.

"Got the homework, Shirley?"

I slammed it down on the desk in front of him.

"_Someone's _in a mood. Hormones?"

"Piss off."

Dimmock laughed snidely. I had to remind myself that it wouldn't be worth punching him because he was about to get the shock of his life. Well, he would tomorrow, after the marking was done, but I still got satisfaction from handing a paper completed with the wrong answers. I didn't think it would be possible, but I had found someone I hated more than Mycroft.

Geography was mildly entertaining. I was sat with John, Molly and Greg. The seating was optional, for once. We were learning about ecosystems; the rain forest, in particular. The end of Geography saw the start of lunch, and I sat with Molly, John, Greg, Andy and Sal. Sal shot venomous glares at me periodically, not that I cared, to be honest. I ate my pork curry in relative silence, as I was used to doing at home, but laughed when John made a good joke and Molly fulfilled her promise of spilling her drink on Greg. He stank of orange juice for weeks, unable to get the smell out of his blazer, even after washing it, spraying deodorant all over it and 'borrowing' Molly's perfume to load onto it. That was a mistake; after that, he smelled like a perfumer who just _loved _Tropicana.

Lunch was fairly uneventful. No fights, which I was almost disappointed about. Music was dull. The teacher was alright, but after discovering that I had Grade 8 violin, Grade 6 music theory and Grade 5 piano he kind of gave up trying to teach me anything, because I knew just as much- maybe more- about music than he did. I discovered that Molly was Grade 3 flute. I mentioned that we should practice together some time; she looked away, blushing, claiming that I was far too advanced and she would never be able to keep up with me.

French was French- dull, boring, useless. German, though, was almost _fun_. To my delight, I was sat with Molly. Just us two, opposite each other. I was behind by two years- they started German in Year 7- but I had a basic knowledge of the subject and was a fast learner.

Molly helped me when I got stuck; some times I feigned it so that I could talk to her, although she talked to me anyway. I wondered far too many times that lesson whether she 'liked' me back...

That night, we scaled the fence again, us four, and got the bus into town. We had to get changed first, though, or someone would realize that we were out of bounds and send us back to school. Molly was wearing light blue hi-top converse, light jeggins- which she told me were a kind of jean leggin- and a tye dye purple sweat shirt that looked far too big.

"It's meant to be like that! Honestly, Sherlock, you don't know anything about fashion! And none of you have complimented me on how nice I look. Hmpf."

Although I didn't say it, I thought she looked really hot. That isn't really something I'd say anyway- I might think of a girl as cute or pretty, but usually not hot. _Usually_. Maybe it was because she was wearing eyeliner- ending the line with a tiny flick- that made me think that. She looked really, really..._nice_.

We arrived in town. It was small- smaller than I was used to, with living in London- but it was a scenic little place. Quaint cafes, grand restaurants, pastel colored shop fronts. We had icecream; Molly somehow managed to get some on her nose, and I brushed it off with my finger. An excuse to touch her.

We shopped a bit, mainly because Molly wanted to, but it wasn't like shopping with Mother; we looked at all the cool stuff, pointed out the best things to each other, spent money on whatever we wanted. I got a giant bag of fudge which I hoped would last for weeks, but that was before John and Greg- mainly Greg, who ate far too much but was still amazingly skinny- got a hold of it. I had to force it away from them to offer Molly some, who was almost crying with laughter watching us fighting over sweets like five year olds. She still took some, and I had a chunk too. The sweetness rushed to my head, clouding my thoughts, which was why I didn't eat when I needed to concentrate. But it was nice, sharing my sweets with my friends. I was the happiest I had been in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

Wednesday morning brought another maths lesson- I couldn't wait. I just wanted to see the look on Dimmock's face when he worked out he had been tricked. I was actually grinning as I walked into the maths class, my satchel swinging on my shoulder. How Dimmock was in top set maths anyway confused me- then I realized it was probably through a lot of cheating.

The maths teacher, for some reason, handed out the marked work in reverse-alphabetical order, so I got my homework back first. Full marks. Dimmock breathed a sigh of relief- I had to keep myself from laughing.

When Dimmock got his paper back, he stared at it, his mouth forming an 'O'.

"But...but you got full marks!" he gasped. "How did I...?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"You...you little shit!"

I laughed, unable to stop myself. "Nice of you to catch up." I said, looking at the giant zero on the top of his paper. "You said to do your homework- you didn't say to do it _right_."

* * *

I described the scene at lunch, animatedly- John was crying with laughter, Molly was clutching her sides and laughing silently, and Greg spat Coke all over me when I told him how Dimmock had called me a little shit. That made Molly and John laugh more, and I laughed too, although I was covered in sticky brown liquid.

We had games next- rugby for me, John and Greg, hockey for Molly. I missed her- her company, her smile. I had to remind myself that it was only for a double lesson.  
After running a lap of the field- which killed- we had to get into pairs. Greg partnered Andy, I partnered John. I was terrible at rugby- I couldn't get the ball to fly straight, or even, really, in the right direction. My hand-eye co-ordination was pretty good, it just somehow didn't apply to rugby. After that came an hour of matches, which I was terrible in. My teammates- except John- hated me by the end of the lesson.

"That," I panted "was terrible."

John laughed in response.

I had German next; German meant Molly. I had to hold back my grin when the teacher announced we would be doing partner work that lesson with the person we were sat with.  
It was a simple pronunciation exercise, based on what we were learning about- houses.

"Wo wohnst du Sherlock?"  
"Ich wohne in ein einfamilienhaus auf dem Großstadt . Wo wohnst du, Molly?"  
"Ich wohne in einen Dopplehaus auf dem Stadt." and so on. But it was nice to work with her. She laughed at my failed attempts at a German accent, and laughed even harder when I forgot what a bookcase is called and accidentally called it a snail.

The end of German brought the end of the day. Molly and I walked to John and Greg's Spanish classroom- they had opted for Spanish rather than German lessons- but their whole class was being held back by the teacher. I was almost happy; it meant time alone with Molly.

"I still can't believe you called a bookcase a snail!" she said laughing.

"It wasn't a hard mistake to make!" I said, laughing back.

"Yes it was! Regal is completely different to schnecke, and even after I corrected you, you pronounced it ree-gal rather than rey-gal."

"What's the difference?!"

Molly laughed. "I think you should stick to French."

I shrugged, grinning. She looked so pretty, her small, rounded features catching exactly the right amount of autumn sun. I pushed a stray hair back from her face and behind her ear; I didn't even know why, I suppose it was the desire to touch her. She didn't pull away or tell me not to touch her, so I assumed it was okay. She was smiling, and before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in to kiss her. She was leaning in too, closing her eyes, but before we could actually kiss, a swarm of Spanish students came out of the door. She looked at me, blushing but smiling. I grinned back. A minute later, John and Greg came through the door.

"What took you so long?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from Molly. She turned around to face them, too.

"Dimmock got us all held back, basically for acting like an idiot for the whole lesson."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" I said sarcastically.

All four of us walked back to the boarding house, Molly telling John and Greg about how I thought snails were the same thing as book cases. I laughed, a little embarrassed. I felt happy, but I was disappointed too; I had almost kissed Molly. I sighed. _Next time we're alone_, I promised myself.


	8. Chapter 8

That night, after school, we went to the park- somewhere that we were actually allowed to go. Molly, John, Greg and I sat in the giant swing.

"How was hockey?" Greg asked Molly.

"Terrible. Sal's miles ahead of me, but she's the only person that will actually be my partner. I wish I could do rugby with you lot."

"You don't," I said "it's terrible."

"Can't be any worse than hockey, especially if you're always left wing."

I shrugged. She looked even nicer than usual, her long brown hair in a loose side-plait, wearing denim shorts and a knit jumper.

"I'm hungry." complained Greg.

"Well, there's a surprise." I said sarcastically.

"Got any fudge, Sherlock?"

I sighed, throwing him the packet.

"Cheers."

We spent the afternoon sitting in the park, the warm September sun making us sleepy. No-one bothered us. It was eventful, but not boring. At about eight, we walked slowly towards the boarding house, the sun beginning to fade from the sky. Molly smiled at me, and I smiled back. Neither of us had-or would- mention what had nearly happened, but there had been some kind of shift in our casual relationship. I wanted to kiss her even more; I wanted to be close to her, wanted to touch her, wanted to know how her lips felt against mine. She was beautiful in a gentle kind of way, almost fragile.

"Schnecke." she whispered. I grinned in response.

* * *

The first half term had came and gone, our weekends spent in much the same way as our afternoons. We were yet to get into another fight with Dimmock, and I was yet to kiss Molly. It was driving me mad, but I just couldn't find a way to be alone with her.  
All four of us got the train back into London, making plans to meet up some time in the holidays. Molly hugged me before we parted, and I fist-bumped with John and Greg. I would much rather stay at school for the holidays than come home, but none of my friends planned to stay, so there wasn't much point. Just a week, then I could see them again. Just a week, then I could see _Molly _again.  
My Father's chauffeur was waiting at the station to drive me home. I got into the pristine car; fresh, clean, expensive. I hauled my bags onto the open boot, then got into the back seat. He started up the car and I leaned my head on the window, already missing my friends, especially Molly.  
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Molly. I almost dropped the iPhone in my haste to answer her text.

_Hey :) on the bus, bored  
_

What to say?

_In the car. So slow. Going at...snail speed :D_

_Lol :D check your Facebook when you get to your house_

_Why?_

_Just check it! Gosh!_

_Fine, whatever_

I put my phone back in my pocket, not expecting a reply. I didn't get one.  
Half an hour later, the car pulled up outside of the Holmes mansion. It towered over me, daunting. My parents had so much money- too much. I had promised myself not to take any of it, unless I desperately, _desperately _needed it.  
The chauffeur opened my door for me. I thanked him, and walked through the front door. The polished, waxed floor gleamed. It must have been cleaned recently- not by Mother, of course, but by one of her servants. Rich, as I said. I walked through to the living room, the pungent smell of cleaning fluids filling my nose.

"Oh, hello, dear." Mother said, lifting her nose out of her magazine.

"Hello, Mother."

"Where's Father?"

"He's working, sweetheart." And that was all we said to each other. I wouldn't say that my parents neglected me- I had anything I could possibly need or want- but they certainly didn't care about me as much as they should have. I held back a sigh as I climbed the polished wooden staircase to my bedroom. It was exactly as I had left it eight weeks ago; a complete tip. The cleaners hadn't reached this far, then, or maybe they had taken the hint not to go in after I exploded at them the last time they had tidied my room. I smiled. Home sweet home- although I was already beginning to think of the boarding house as home. Already I missed Greg's eating- or rather overeating- habits, John's caution around me in science lessons, and everything about Molly; her smile, her freckles, her hair, her clothing choices, the way she pronounced German words, her perfectly aligned teeth, her friendliness, her calm nature, her voice, her smell, her laugh. The list could go on.  
Doing as she asked, I switched on my Mac and signed into Facebook. The top of my news feed read _Molly Hooper changed her cover photo_. The picture of her dog was replaced by a picture of the four of us standing in a huddle. Everyone was smiling, but I had the biggest grin by a mile. It must have been the first time we went into town together; Molly was wearing her tye-dye sweater, and Greg was clutching my bag of fudge. I immediately hit the 'like' button; Greg and John had too.  
I scrolled down, and the screen read _Molly Hooper changed her profile picture_. It was a picture of me standing with my arm around her, my smile wider than I had thought humanly possible. She was grinning too. I hit the 'like' button again. Yes, I definitely had friends.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Sorry this chapter's so short, but I didn't want to continue it for the sake of making it longer. Anyway, enjoy, although some of it's angsty and h/c, with quite a lot of cute Sherlolly fluff . Don't forget to review ;)_**

I was waiting outside the cinema for Molly. I had invited Greg and John too- Greg couldn't make it and John _couldn't make it_. I had a feeling he wanted to let me be alone with Molly, which was completely amazing of him. I had thanked him about twenty times down the phone, which was kind of admitting he had been right and I _did _like her, but I didn't care. Didn't matter who knew, so long as she didn't. _Yet_.  
It began to rain, the last of the warm summer giving way to the dreary autumn. In soon it would be Christmas. I hoped for snow, although last time it snowed I got the flu. I still loved it, though.  
I was pulled out of my thoughts by a deafening _boom. _I turned my head towards the source of the noise; there was a cloud of ash rising into the sky. It must have been a bombing, and it looked like it had happened on the tube. Molly was travelling by tube. _Molly._

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

_Are you okay?_

The message couldn't send. I called her. She didn't have a signal.  
I sprinted in the direction of the explosion, pushing through people in the street. The closer I got to the wreckage, the more people I saw running _away _from it. I heard pained cries, moans, shouts of names. I was shouting too- Molly, Molly, _Molly_. I was soon finding it hard to see because of the smoke and ash, and my throat was dry and sore from shouting, but my hearing must have been fine because I heard faint cries of "Sherlock! _Sherlock!_"  
I froze, listening to Molly, trying to work out where she was. Eventually she partly emerged from the smoke cloud. I ran towards her silhouette, still unable to see properly. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out into clearer air. She was alive- coughing, covered in soot, but alive. I had never been more relieved. I pulled her into a hug to make sure she was really alive, and tangible. She hugged me back. I don't know how long we stood there hugging, but neither of us wanted to pull away, safe in each other's arms.

* * *

Molly came home with me. Her parents were out; I couldn't let her go home by herself. My parents were out too, and Mycroft was on a school trip, so we had the mansion to ourselves. She phoned her Mum and Dad at work to tell them she was OK. Her phone had broke at some point during the bombing.

"What happened?" I asked, almost as soon as we got in.

"I was standing in a carriage on the tube; for some reason, it hadn't moved. The doors were still open. Someone ran into the carriage and put a black backpack on the seat at the back. After he got out, the doors started to close. I was pretty sure it was a bomb so I jumped out of the carriage and sprinted as fast as I could away from the station. I was the only person to escape. Everyone else on the train...dead." she said, in tears by the end of the last sentence. I hugged her again as she cried, her tears falling hot onto my dust-covered T-shirt. I hated to see her upset; it made me want to cry myself. Her soft brown hair, usually so neat, was a mess. Filled with ash flakes, knotted, matted in areas. I rested my chin on top of her head; I was quite a lot taller than her. I couldn't say I enjoyed this- Molly was in pain- but I was glad I had been there to comfort her. I ran my hand through her tangled hair, murmuring from time to time 'it's okay, you're okay, I'm here.' She sometimes seemed so strong and independent, but she felt frail and fragile. I realized how lucky she was- how lucky I was- that she was alive and not seriously injured. I very nearly lost one of my best friends and the girl I loved. I tried not to dwell on it; nothing had _actually _happened to her, but I remembered how panicked I was when I realized the tube had been bombed and she could be dead, and it hurt. A lot.


	10. Chapter 10

"At four o'clock this afternoon, a bomb went off at an Underground station in central London." A news reporter said into a camera. She was standing outside of the wreckage of what used to be a tube stop. "Ninety people were killed, a hundred more injured." Molly gasped. "The person or persons who organized this terrorist attack are yet to be identified, but they _will _be found. The Prime Minister has prepared a statement." A minute later, the PM appeared on the screen. I tuned out as he driveled on about how the UK will not give into terrorist attacks, the bombers would be caught, et cetera et cetera.  
Molly and I had several phone calls from people asking if we were okay; John, Greg, Molly's older sister who was at university, even Andy and Sal, to my surprise. I didn't hear from my parents or Mycroft, but I hadn't expected to.  
Molly looked and said she felt less shocked, but it had been a traumatizing experience for her. Reliving it through the news didn't help, but she would see it sooner or later.  
She left at six; her Mum was home from work, and my parents would be in soon too. She couldn't get the tube home obviously, and I refused to let her go by bus, so I made sure she got driven home, although I couldn't come with her. We hugged again before she left, and because I didn't need to comfort her so much, I appreciated our closeness and the trust we had. I still 'fancied' her, as John would say. I wondered, as I did at least ten times a day, whether she felt the same about me. I really hoped she did. Desperately. I didn't think I could manage to just be her friend.  
She drove off; I waved, and she waved back. Four days until school. Four days until I could see Molly Hooper. Four days until my life could start to have meaning again, even if that was a bit melodramatic. I knew it would probably be the longest four days of my life.

* * *

Four long, dull, dreary days later, I was standing on platform 3 with Molly, Greg and John, waiting for our train. I couldn't remember a time when I had been happier to see the back of the holidays. Molly had dip-dyed the ends of her hair light blue at some point; the color had faded quite a lot- she had posted a picture on Facebook when it was just done- but there were still hints of blue against brown, making her messy hair bun look more interesting than it usually did.  
Greg was in character, chomping down a packet of Oreos amazingly quickly. He was still the skinniest person I knew by a lot; he was even skinnier than me, which was saying something.  
John was acting normally too, looking between me and Molly periodically and grinning when I caught him. My best friend was hilarious and knew how to wind me up, but he was also intuitive- though not deductive, like me- and knew from the minute I met Molly that I liked her. To my own surprise, I didn't mind that he knew. I suppose I liked having someone to share my feelings with, even if I hadn't actually _shared_ them.  
The train came into the station. I watched almost enviously as Molly, John and Greg said goodbye to their parents; hugs, kisses, waves, smiles. My parents, of course, were too busy not being busy to be there. I tried not to get upset, reminding myself that I would be embarrassed if I cried in front of Molly, although she had cried in front of me.  
Nobody mentioned the bombing on the journey to school; nobody ever did. Greg stuffed his face with food while listening to me, John and Molly talking. John was telling us about how he had came to work with his father in the GP's surgery, and now wanted nothing but to be a doctor. I wanted nothing but to be a Detective, although when anyone asked what I wanted to be I said I hadn't given it much thought. I had; I wracked my brains for a way to put my deductive skills to use when I was older and it took me ages to come up with the idea of being a Detective. My parent's wouldn't approve and I was sure my friends would think it weird, although I later discovered that Greg wanted to be a DI and Molly wanted to do something in forensics- she wasn't completely sure what. I still didn't tell them, though.  
An hour later we arrived at school. I was sure it would be a day like no other; I couldn't be more wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

_**This story recently got 500 views. Thanks, guys :3**_

We walked into our Science classroom to see something none of us expected- a man that wasn't Fryatt. Initially I was pleased- I would have a break from being called 'Professor'- but this teacher was even worse than the quiffed idiot.

"What're you gawping at, boy?" he bellowed in my face. His breath reeked of alcohol, badly masked with coffee.

"A man with a drinking problem." I said, regretting the smart-arse remark before I had even finished. My damn deductive skills. I sometimes just couldn't keep my mouth shut, even if I tried extremely hard.

"Sit yourself down. _Now_."

I sat down obediently. Where was Fryatt? I wondered briefly whether he had been killed in the bombing, but the supply teacher explained what had happened when another student asked.

"Mr. Fryatt is at home with his wife- she's pregnant. I'm your supply teacher until he gets back."

This wasn't true. Fryatt wasn't married. He didn't wear a wedding ring; he wasn't the kind of man who would take it off. What was going on?

I couldn't focus the rest of the lesson, trying to work out what had happened. I had already decided I _would _work it out; this was the closest I could get to detective work, really. Had Fryatt been kidnapped? Murdered? killed in the bombing? It was most likely that his disappearance was connected to the bombing, but how? I just couldn't work it out...

At lunch, we went to investigate the science classroom, to see if we could find any clues. John and I searched the class, while Greg and Molly guarded the door in case we were found.  
The first thing I did was get onto Fryatt's laptop. It was password protected, but that was easy to get past. I filtered through the teaching materials, looking for something, _anything_ that could be relative. I even got into his Facebook account and looked through his messages. Nothing. Annoyed, I slammed the laptop screen down and began to search the drawers in the desks. I found a small drawer full of receipts and looked through them all. He had recently bought several high-powered fireworks, a lighter, string, a black backpack and different types of flammable materials. I let out a _hmm_. Had Fryatt built the bomb? I doubted it, but it was possible.

I told the others my theory; they all looked shocked. Greg even stopped eating his sausage roll.

"It wasn't Fryatt who planted the bomb, anyway." said Molly. I nodded.

"We know he wasn't working alone, then." Greg added.

"We don't know if he was working at all." I replied. "It looks like it, but we need more evidence to confirm it." they all nodded. "I think we should go and see the shop owners who sold the fireworks. That could help. Luckily the shop's in the closest town, we can get the bus in after school."It was a plan. I prayed it would work.

* * *

Two lessons and a bus ride later, Molly, John, Greg and I were standing outside of the shop where Fryatt allegedly bought his fireworks. Molly and I went in; John and Greg waited outside. I had no idea what I would say or do, but generally spontaneity worked better for me than a completely rigid plan. Spontaneity was good, I supposed. Spontaneity had saved Molly's life.

"Er...hi." I said, walking up to the desk. "Can we have a look at your CCTV footage for the 29th of October?"

The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. "Why would I let you do that?" That was a good point. We were a pair of thirteen year olds.

"Our friend's missing, we want to see if he was in here on the 29th."

"Sorry. Come back with the police and I might let you."

We left, feeling absolutely stupid. What were we thinking, wandering into a hop and asking to see the CCTV footage? I sighed.

"Maybe we should just forget the whole thing." said John, when Molly and I got outside.

"No! This is the closest to detective work I'll get!" said Greg, almost shouting.

"I want to do it too. And if something serious happens because we ignored this it would be terrible." I said. Greg smiled at me.

John shrugged. "I suppose it gives us something to do."

I _did _want to continue with this, but I had no idea if it would be worth the time and hassle involved. But that night, something cropped up on the news.  
Molly, John, Greg and I were in the common room watching the TV as we did our homework. I was concentrating more on the marginally interesting news broadcast than the completely dull French verb table, to be honest. I sat and listened as the reporter finished a story on the war in Afghanistan and started a story on the Tube Bombing, as it had been dubbed. It seemed that they had found the man who made the bomb. I looked at the screen, hoping to be right as well as hoping to be wrong. Schrodinger's cat is both alive and dead until the door is opened and one theory is proved wrong and the other right. I wanted the satisfaction of being right, but I also didn't _want _to be right.  
"Arthur Fryatt, 32, is accused of making the bomb which exploded and killed nearly one hundred people. He claims to have done so under duress; this cannot be proven true. If he is found guilty, Fryatt will face a life sentence in prison."


	12. Chapter 12

"Why are you here?"

"We want to help you, Mr. Fryatt."

"Help me do what?"

"Prove that you were forced to make the bomb."

Fryatt sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. It wasn't in it's usual style, but it vaguely resembled a quiff. He had purple smudges under his eyes. He looked stressed, _very _stressed.

"They said they couldn't prove it...I was forced to make it! Why won't anyone listen to me?"

"We're listening, Mr. Fryatt."

"You can't help me! I'll die in prison for something I was forced to do."

"You will unless you talk to us. For God's sake, it's got to be better than doing nothing." I said, annoyed. _We were trying to help him_.

"You're a bunch of thirteen year olds! How are you going to help me?"

"We can't unless you tell us what happened! Now are you going to talk to us or what?" I nearly shouted.

Fryatt sighed and put his head in his hands. I should have felt sorry for him but I really couldn't. I wasn't accepting the only help if he could get, even if it was from a group of Year Nines.

"Mr Fryatt, unless you want to be known as a mass murderer for the rest of your life, you really should tell us what happened. All we want to do is help, honestly." said Greg. I could easily see him as a DI, even then.

"I...fine. Fine, whatever. What have I got to loose? I was mugged in town, on the day school finished. Well, I _thought_ I had been mugged- all they did was check my wallet to see if I had cash and cards on me. One of them had a gun. Some kind of sniper, long-range thing. He swore he'd shoot me unless I bought all the stuff they needed. I realized it would make a bomb and wanted to refuse, but they had a gun. What was I meant to do?" he said, and sat back in his chair. "When I got back to them, they put the gun to my head and told me to get into a car. I got in, and they took me to a house. I was put in a cellar and told to build a bomb. They had no idea how to do it themselves but said I would have everything I needed. They weren't able to buy fireworks for some reason, that's why they needed me to buy them. I built the bomb- they had a gun on me the whole time." Fryatt finished, rubbing his fingers under his eyes.

"And you won't tell the police any of this?" I asked.

"They wouldn't listen. Look, help me. Please. I don't know if you can, but no-one else will."

* * *

We stayed in town for a bit that Saturday, after visiting Fryatt. Was this how we would spend our weekends, now? Solving crimes?

"What're we going to do? I can't see how we can prove he was forced to build the bomb." said Molly, between sips of hot chocolate. The end of her nose had been turned red by the cold November air, her cheeks were flushed. Summer and the better part of Autumn were well and truly gone.

"We can, but nothing we say'll be listened to." I said, miserably.

"We've got to do something! He'll go to jail if we don't!" said John.

"I know...I just don't know how we're going to be taken seriously."

"We're going to give them such strong evidence they'll _have _to listen to it, that's how." added Greg defiantly. I nodded. It was the best- the only -plan we had. I hated Fryatt, but I didn't want to see him in jail, with everyone assuming he built the bomb because he wanted to, not because he was forced to. I put my head in my hands. How were we going to prove it?

I wracked my brains for the next month trying to think of a solution. It didn't come to me. We had tried to tell the police, but they didn't listen. The rest of the term passed, and Christmas came. As we left school on the last day of term, Molly looked at a man who was waiting outside the school gates. He looked like a parent, waiting to collect his child. Hiding in plain sight.

"That's him," she whispered. "the bomber."

I looked at her, my eyes wide. "I think...I think he's here for us. He knows what we're trying to do." I stopped, trying to think of the best way to handle this. "John, call the police. Greg, go with him. Molly and I will watch the bomber. Ok?" I said, finally. The other three nodded.  
"Act natural." I whispered to Molly as we walked closer to the bomber. I tried not to look at him too often. I was scared, but I was also excited; danger was interesting, danger was fun, so long as there wasn't too much danger.  
We waited for five minutes. There was no sign of the police or the other two. There was no one else in school. We waited another five minutes, and I watched as the bomber pretended to look for someone. It was a good performance, but I knew what he was doing. I didn't, though, have eyes in the back of my head. I didn't see a man hit me on the back of the head with something, something heavy, but I did hear Molly scream _Sherlock! _as I blacked out. Too much danger. I had been kidnapped.


	13. Chapter 13

I woke up in a dark room. My head throbbed where I had been hit, but when I moved my arm to feel the lump it had made I realized my hands were bound. Molly and I were tied together, back to back. John and Greg were tied up in the same way.

"Molly!" I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I've been kidnapped! What do you think?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Broken arm. I tried to wrestle the man when he pulled a gun on me, and well...it wasn't pretty. He's got a black eye, though."

"That was pretty brave."

"Thanks. I don't think John and Greg are awake yet."

"When did you wake up?"

"I was never knocked out. They couldn't manage to, so they stuffed me in the boot of the car on the way here so I couldn't see where we were going."

"Oh...that's pretty bad."

"It was worth it, to make life difficult for them. I got stabbed in the arm when we got here; a needle with something in, heroin I think, or some other drug. That was because I wouldn't let them tie me up. I didn't get knocked out but I couldn't really function properly."

All I could think about was the fact that Molly had been so brave; he was usually so sweet and little-girly, almost timid, although I remembered how she beat up one of Dimmock's friends on my first day. For a while, I didn't say anything.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Four hours."

I nodded, bumping heads with her. We laughed. I supposed it was best to laugh, if I could. It was that or cry. How had I managed this? How had I managed to get kidnapped? Stupid, _stupid_! I wanted to put my head in my hands, but they were bound, so I kind of put my head _on _my hands.

"Whatever you do, don't mention that you know at least one of them is connected to the bombing." I said.

"Why?"

"They'll never let us go, in case we tell the police that they did it. They might not know we know."

"Why else would they kidnap us?"

"I dunno, ransom maybe?" I said, sighing. It was uncomfortably hot, and I wanted to take my blazer off, but obviously I wasn't able to.

"Ah, my head!" I heard John cry from across the room.

"John! John, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I- where am I?"

"A cellar somewhere. We've been kidnapped."

"That's...a bit bad."

"Just a tad."

"This was all your idea. You're a bloody idiot."

"Yeah, I know." I laughed. John laughed back. Like I said, it's good to laugh in the face of doom if you can.

"You've got a plan to get us out though...? Right?"

"Er...not quite."

"You better bloody think of one."

He was right, I had better think of a way for us to escape, preferably with our lives.

About an hour later, Greg woke up. He had a broken nose, a black eye, a lump on the back of his head and a large, deep cut on his upper arm. It was clean, but very deep. John, being the most medically qualified, said it could get infected if Greg wasn't careful. He ripped the bottom of his shirt and tied the material around Greg's arm. No one could help Molly- I couldn't reach her broken arm, John was too far away, Greg couldn't do much of anything and Molly couldn't make a sling for herself.

I wasn't able to keep track of time, but when our captors finally showed their faces, we had been in the cellar for a while. The cellar door was pushed open slowly, the light was blinding. It was the man Molly had said was the bomber.

"Why are we here?" I asked immediately.

"Shut up. If you're really, _really _good then I might not kill you."

"Why are we here?"

"You got a death wish or something, kid?"

"Why are we here?"

"Do you want another punch? Maybe you'd like shot in stead? Don't think I won't."

"Why are we here?"

"Will you shut up?"

"If you tell me why we're here."

The bomber glared at him. "Money. From your rich parents."

"How much?"

"Couple million. Collectively, I mean, from all your parents. Although I'm pretty sure the Holmes's could scrape it up by themselves. A mansion, estates, couple nice cars...this is nothing _they _couldn't afford."

"I thought this usually happens in adults who're kidnapped. Politicians and the like. The kidnappers get the government to pay the ransom. Doesn't happen in kids, not really."

"Yep, well, we don't like to be predictable."

"Oh, you're predictable. Dull, boring, ordinary, transparent...don't take offense, nearly everyone is. But if you can think of holding us for ransom, why can't you think of an original way to do it? Why can't you just _think_?"

"Because if I _think_, I'll think about killing you, and I will, and then I'll be missing out on my share of the ransom because it'll go down by about a million."

I shrugged. I was trying to annoy the kidnapper, and I could as much as I wanted because despite the threats, I wouldn't be killed. At least, until they got the money. I wasn't able to tell whether they would let me go or kill me.

"So why are you down here, anyway?"

"See if you're all tied up. Haven't escaped- not that you will, of course."

I nodded- I really should have tried to get information out of him, but I was too focused on the pen knife in his pocket. If I could just get to it somehow...

I stuck my leg out as the bomber walked in front of me- well, my legs, my feet were bound. He stumbled over them; I lifted my arms as if pulling them out of his way and swiftly pulled the knife out of his pocket. I slid it up the sleeve of my shirt.

"Little bastard!"

I smirked at him. I got a slap for it, but I had the knife. It was my chance- my only chance -to escape.


	14. Chapter 14

The bomber left shortly after checking all our ties, locking the door behind him and leaving us in the dark. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust again.

"You alright?" asked Greg.

"Yeah. I know how we're going to get out."

"How?"

"I got his penknife."

"Well, I would hi-five you if I could, but I can't."

I laughed.

"We're going to get out of here. Alive." said Molly. I grinned. We would, so long as my plan worked. Either we would get out or I- and possibly everyone else -would certainly be killed. I didn't tell them that bit. I really should have, but I didn't. I wasn't a sociopath then like I am now, but my social skills weren't amazing.

An hour later, after explaining my plan to them, we began to carry it out. Well, I started to carry out _my _part of the plan. I put my hands behind my back and started sawing at the rope that tied Molly and I together. I kept going until it was almost broken, which took several hours. Now we just had to wait.  
We tried to get some sleep, but we were tied together and were sitting on a concrete floor. I gave up; Molly gave up soon afterwards and John and Greg forgot trying to sleep about an hour after Molly. We were all starving; Greg seemed like a completely different person when he wasn't holding an item of food. He had it the worst, although Molly's broken arm was hard to beat. John and I were relatively unhurt.

At what I estimated to be four o'clock in the morning, the bomber came back to check our ties. I put the knife in position, behind my back, as he checked the rope on Molly's hands. I hoped desperately that my plan would work. It was simple enough- all I had to do was cut through the last of the rope.  
I felt it sever.

"Vatican cameos!" I yelled, standing up and turning as Molly ducked. I sliced the knife into the man's chest- it hardly made a scratch, but it was enough to distract him as I brought my tied hands down onto his head, knocking him out. I sliced through the rope on my hands, before untying Molly's. I cut the ties on Greg and John's hands but I couldn't do anything about the rope that tied them together- it would take too much time. I grabbed Molly's hand and pulled her after me, running out of the open door, Greg and John running as fast as they could after us; they were still tied back to back.  
We headed for the front door of the house. I opened it and sprinted out, still holding onto Molly's hand. John and Greg followed, and I closed the door after them. We sprinted on into a park, hiding among the scattering of trees in case our captors came after us. I untied John from Greg.

"What now?" asked Molly, who was clutching her broken arm.

"I think I should call the police." I said, digging out my phone which now had a signal. Ten minutes later three cars arrived; one to take us home, two filled with police officers who were ready to break into the bomber's house- they knew he was the bomber, Molly told them. We were exhausted, but glad to have escaped with our lives.

* * *

When I got home that night, I was hugged several times by my parents- which happened once in a blue moon. Most surprising, though, was Mycroft's reaction. He was almost crying when he saw me; he thought I was dead.  
I never wanted to be kidnapped again, although I had to admit the escape was kind of fun.


	15. Chapter 15

_**So this will be the last chapter (except for the epilogue). I need to say thanks to everyone who has followed, reviewed, favourite'd or just read this story. This was my second fic, it had over a thousand views and lots of positive critique so I'm super happy.  
**_**_But don't dispair! _****_There will be a_****_ sequel, I promise. I'll be writing it soon; although I'm not entirely sure what it'll be about. I'll PM all followers of this story the name of the sequel once it's released, so you don't miss it if you'd like to read it._**

**_Thanks again. You're all awesome :3  
~LS_**

I got a phone call the next day; the bombers had been arrested. In a week's time they would be charged with terrorism, mass murder and abduction. Molly, John and Greg had been told too.  
We went to see Fryatt- he was out of jail.

"I wanted to thank you, kids." he said, smiling at us. "Without you, I'd be doing a life sentence. You proved I'm innocent."

"You're not _actually _innocent- you still built the bomb."

"Alright, _Professor_. I built it under duress, which means I'm innocent. You proved I was forced to do it."

"All we did was get kidnapped, really."

"You lead them to the bombers, who admitted to everything."

I shrugged. "You better give me an A on the end of year test."

"You'd get one anyway!"

"Just making sure."

Nobody talked for a while. "Why didn't you take the 'home with his wife' story?"

"Well, let's just say we're not gullible."


	16. Epilogue

**_I said my thank yous and stuff in the last chapter, but thanks again :3 this is pretty much a chapter for Sherlolly shippers, and it finishes off the story nicely.  
Enjoy :3_**

My parents always held a Christmas party on the 22nd. I used to have no interest in such an event and stayed in my room, but I had friends that year. Mycroft always brought his friends, and once brought his girlfriend, so I invited Molly, John and Greg. They came, of course, because friends always manage to come to your parties somehow.  
Molly arrived first- she was wearing a red Christmas jumper and skinny denim jeans. Her hair was in a bun but she wore reindeer antlers. I thought she looked really, _really _nice, though of course I didn't tell her that.  
After moving through the crowd of people asking, to my embarrassment, if she was my girlfriend, we went up to my room. I had a mini Christmas tree in one corner and snowflake-shaped lights scattered around the room. I hated Christmas decorations, really, but Mother insisted that I had some in my room so that it would look 'festive'.  
Molly and I talked for a bit, but I could see there was something on her mind.

"Sherlock...I didn't thank you properly. For getting me out of that cellar, I mean. You probably saved my life."

"I had to get out somehow. I couldn't let all of us die."

"No, but...it was brave. Really brave. I can't thank you enough."

I had looked away from her, but dragged my eyes slowly back to hers. The light from the color-changing snowflakes played softly on her face, the shadows changing with the color. Her eyes sparkled. Her freckles were covered by some kind of makeup- I liked her freckles. I was sad that she didn't. She was wearing mascara and some kind of lip gloss that I hadn't seen her wear before.

"That's a new lip gloss. It looks nice." I said, for no apparent reason.

"Thanks." she said, blushing, looking away. She looked up again, and our eyes met. Before I realized what I was doing I was leaning in to kiss her; she was leaning in too, slowly. She closed her eyes and I closed mine. Our lips met, and I remembered a thousand things we had done together; when we first met, beating up Dimmock together, my first trip to the beach, my dream about kissing her, my first trip into town, sitting in the park together, running to find her after the bombing, being tied together in the cellar...I felt so happy, _so _happy, this was the first time I had ever felt like this. I ran my hands down her shoulders, her back, her waist, but her hands stayed pressed against my chest. She broke away from me, smiling, smiling a wider smile than I had ever seen on her face. I kissed her again, and she kissed me back, her tongue flicking into my mouth and mine flicking into hers. We kissed for a long time, and I eventually broke away when music started playing down stairs. I held her hand, pulling her up with me and dancing to the music with her. It was a slow waltz, and I never took my eyes from hers the whole time we circled the floor. I leaned in to kiss her again. As we broke away, a familiar blonde head poked around the corner of the door. "Well done mate. You finally did it."Greg's head followed, smiling. John grinned at me, and Molly and I grinned back.

My three best friends in the world, smiling at me. And one of them was my girlfriend.

**_The sequel is out :D it's called fourteen. It contains more Sherlolly fluff'n'stuff, but it's based on the hound of the baskervilles, not all soppy romance, don't worry :3 -LS_**

**_ s/9602757/1/Fourteen_**


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